Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4)

by Melinda Kucsera

  With agility that caught the guard unawares, Nahrem grasped Haraz’s boot. He twisted forcefully. His bindings cut deeper into his own flesh. He hardly cared. A satisfying snap of bone rewarded his effort. The evil inside fueled his need to be free at any cost.

  Haraz yelped in surprise, then with pain.

  “What the Light just happened?” exclaimed Ahken.

  The tent flap began opening. Barely balanced on one foot, Haraz’s bulk blocked Nahrem’s exit. Nahrem spun out his lower leg. He knocked over the brazier. Burning oil cascaded across the tent and Haraz’s body. Sundried fabric burst into flames. Haraz screamed in terror. He attempted to snuff out the grease fire by rolling about on the ground.

  “Are you mad?” Ahken shouted at Nahrem, drawing his sword.

  Already on his feet, Nahrem bent over and charged Ahken. His shoulder rammed into the larger guard’s midsection. Ahken dropped his sword, winded. Both spilled through the entryway. In the aisle between the closely packed tents, Nahrem slammed his forehead against Ahken’s nose. Blood sprayed between them. Nahrem drove his knee into Ahken’s groin. He used Ahken’s coiled body as leverage to stand.

  Spreading flames crackled around him. Menacing black smoke brewed overhead. Across the busy camp, shouts of alarm arose in the wake of Nahrem’s mayhem. Heedless of his own safety in the surging fire, Nahrem bolted from tent to tent searching for his son-of-a-goat-brother who had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

  As if presented to him by the Great Sun, Nahrem saw his brother dashing toward him. The dark power controlling Nahrem salivated over its upcoming third victory. Ignorant of water that magically appeared from the sky to put out the fires, he let out a blood-curdling scream and ran straight at Finyaka.

  Finyaka couldn’t find Matasa anywhere in the camp, despite the blinding whiteness of his chosen vision. He pushed farther into the camp. With each determined step, he gained confidence in his new world view. Anuu protected his bare feet from burning on the hard, sun-heated earth between the tents. He inhaled deeply. Fresh charcoal coated his tongue. Shouts of, “Fire!” and, “He’s escaped!” mingled with the popping of burning wood. Finyaka dashed ahead, more intent of Matasa than ever.

  He heard Asho singing the same song he’d heard Sinaya humming over water. Mage-priests needed to sing or hum to wield their magical power. The practical side of Finyaka’s brain knew that Asho wasn’t nearby. She’d said that she needed to go back to her home, which, presumably, wasn’t in the encampment. Yet, he heard her singing with such clarity, it was as if she stood beside him.

  A blue torrent of energy leaped into the whiteness of Finyaka’s sky from the edge of the encampment. He skidded to a stop, wondering that he should be able to see anything at all. Understanding dawned in him as the magical energy crossed overhead. I can see Asho’s Radiance. She sings to produce water with her Radiance so she can quell the fire. She must not have reached her home because of the fire.

  Her blue Radiance peaked in its arc, then sharply descended. The impact of Asho’s Radiance brought everything in the immediate vicinity into Finyaka’s focus. He momentarily made out the outline of a shuddering tent and heard hissing, like when he’d douse a watch fire with water on the herd plains. That heartbeat of clarity revealed a nimbus of a figure racing at him.

  It’s Matasa seeking me out!

  The runner’s feral scream pierced the blinding whiteness of Finyaka’s vision like a shooting star in the deepest night. He had misunderstood. That person, the source of that anger, must’ve been Nahrem.

  Finyaka calmed inwardly. He directed his Radiance at the place where he’d seen the nimbus of his brother. Power flowed from Finyaka like a golden light. It met a wall of seething evil so intense, he dropped to one knee struck with overwhelming nausea. By all that is sacred what was that?

  Finyaka had no time to think. He drew himself upright, calling on Anuu to find the power within him. Energy gathered in his hands, rushing from the core of his body as his Radiance built up. Sinaya’s warning buzzed in his head as his legs turned into pins and needles. He hadn’t recovered significantly from his trails with Anuu. He shouldn’t be using this much of his Radiance.

  Finyaka had no choice. I must risk death or die.

  His Radiance shot forward through the whiteness of his vision. It collided into Nahrem like a dazzling golden light. He became as visible to Finyaka as he had when they were at home in their village.

  Nahrem’s body flung into the air as Finyaka’s Radiance knocked him back several strides. Where it touched Nahrem, pitch-black roiled. An entity unto itself, it pushed back against Finyaka’s Radiance like the battering of a storm against tent sides.

  Sweat drenched Finyaka. The intensity of his concentration burned his outstretched hands. Faint outlines of people ghosted at the fringes of his Radiance. He paid them no attention. He couldn’t. Whatever evil compelled his brother grew bolder.

  “Why do you continue to fight me, brother?” Finyaka asked through gritted teeth. His heart rose into his throat. Finyaka pushed his bodily limits of tolerance for this struggle.

  “I hate you, doe!” Nahrem’s words sliced open Finyaka’s soul.

  Nahrem’s nebulous form steadied himself. He took a step forward in mid-air. The pitch-black of his loathing spread, reaching for Finyaka through his Radiance.

  Finyaka strained for focus, surprised at the strength of the thing engulfing his brother.

  Nahrem landed another step against the Radiance, then another. Finyaka faltered. The pitch blackness crawled forward like voracious bands of locusts. The distance between them, and the amount of Radiance therein, shrank. Finyaka had been wrong. He couldn’t do this on his own. Matasa, where are you? I need you!

  “Nahrem, your obsession is destroying you!” From his knees, Finyaka redoubled his efforts despite the terrifying numbness that consumed his own body. He pushed his Radiance forward and gained precious inches.

  “And by the Darkness, it will kill us both!” Hysteria fevered Nahrem’s answer. He and his broiling miasma of malevolence won another step forward.

  Finyaka reached a tipping point. His Radiance had drawn so much of his bodily strength that he felt nothing of himself. The warmth of the Great Sun began fading from within. Words failed him. The magnitude of his power waned. If the evil he struggled against connected with him directly, Finyaka wasn’t sure what would happen. Can Nahrem kill me if I am already dead?

  “I will not let you win!” Nahrem vaulted forward. His venous aura surged against Finyaka’s faltering Radiance.

  Finyaka had nothing left to give for his Radiance. His inner Light dimmed to a single ember. The world gifted to him by Anuu, a mage-priest’s world he had not yet explored, disappeared into a grey fog.

  Warnings of fire spread faster through the caravan than the progression of the fire itself. Bodies flew in every direction bearing buckets to and from the only source of water in the village, the oasis. The bedlam in the camp was not nearly as confusing as Matasa’s whirlwind of emotions.

  Matasa hurried through the aisles looking for Finyaka. He cursed himself as he did so. Finyaka had been selfish, insisting that he, alone, had the power to heal a magical rift. Given a sliver of power, he’d demanded more, just like his brother and father. But he did save my life and he’s never wronged me before. Could it be that Matasa had acted hastily?

  By Anuu, he couldn't just leave his blinded cousin to blunder his way to his death through a camp in chaos. If Finyaka died here, Matasa wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. If Finyaka continued to push Matasa away and keep his mage-priest’s magic to himself, Matasa would kill him. Not actually kill him. I’m not like Nahrem.

  Matasa rounded a corner. The scene before him stopped him in his tracks. Nahrem hovered above the ground, held there by an invisible force. Directly in line with Nahrem, Finyaka held out his hands, fingers white-knuckled with strain. Matasa did a double-take. Everyone knew wise men and women moved small objects with their Radiance. None of the
wise folk had the power to move something as big as a person. Matasa had been moved by Finyaka’s Radiance before, had seen it in action, but never had the strain been so great on his cousin. He wasn’t ready to exert himself like this. He remains weak from our ordeal at the Jut with his father and brothers. What kind of wise man did Anuu want Finyaka to become?

  Behind Nahrem, water coalesced from the sky and doused tent flames. The mage-priest, Asho, must be singing the Song of Water to bring her Radiance to the aid of those fighting the flames. The life-saving substance thundered into the tent, sending people sprawling through the hissing shambles. Nahbas won’t be happy about that.

  Nahrem walked forward, leaning in as if pushing against a strong wind. His hands were bound at the wrists by bloodied ropes.

  “Why do you continue to fight me, brother?” The anguish in Finyaka’s cry broke Matasa’s heart. Even now, with his cursed brother still trying to kill him, Matasa’s youngest cousin sought his older brother’s love. Bright orange light had erupted from Finyaka’s eyes, a display, unlike any other mage-priest Radiance Matasa, had witnessed previously.

  Matasa moved to help, then shook his head. When will I get it through my thick head that he doesn’t need me? Matasa turned his back on Finyaka’s plight. He could see now that his once little cousin didn’t need him anymore. The Great Sun was right. If anything, he would be more helpful to the merchants and Old Sondha who had saved his life when he’d given everything he had to rescue Finyaka.

  In his brief pause to assess how he could help the caravan, Matasa heard Nahrem shout, “I hate you, doe!”

  Matasa winced. He hated it when they called Finyaka that. Matasa squared his shoulders, ready to move on. Finyaka will be fine. He has powers now, powers that seem beyond those of the average mage-priest.

  “Matasa, where are you?” Finyaka pleaded from inside Matasa’s mind. “I need you!”

  Stop playing tricks on yourself, idiot. Try as he might, Matasa couldn’t force himself to take another step forward. Compassion for Finyaka compelled him to turn around.

  “Nahrem, your obsession is destroying you!” Finyaka was on both knees, breathing heavily, face contorted with effort. Finyaka’s arms drooped. Come on, Finyaka, you have this! Hold him!

  “And by the Darkness, it will kill us both!” Nahrem’s deranged laughter terrified Matasa. He sounded nothing like himself. Matasa’s cousin-turned-enemy writhed and twisted like a snake. Nahrem looked as if he might break free. “I will not let you win!”

  Finyaka collapsed. Nahrem hit the hard-packed earth, cackling uncontrollably. He twisted onto his back and sprang to his feet. Bound wrists outstretched, he aimed for Finyaka’s throat. Bloody froth bubbled from the corners of his mouth.

  Matasa knew he should help. Finyaka needed him. By the Great Sun, why am I hesitating? His smaller cousin had no more strength than a village pup. Nahrem was almost upon his brother.

  Matasa let out a battle cry. He charged at a man he no longer recognized. Before Nahrem reached Finyaka, Matasa plunged into his older cousin. They crashed to the hard dirt. Dust clouds surrounded them. Onlookers yelped in frightened surprise.

  Nahrem thrashed beneath Matasa with impossible strength. It took all Matasa’s wits and body weight to pin him down. Nahrem struggled for freedom, kneeing Matasa in the back and bucking at him. Matasa slid further down Nahrem’s body, locking his legs around his cousin’s.

  The maneuver almost failed. Nahrem turned on his hip, loosening Matasa’s grip. Matasa shoved Nahrem’s arms harder into the ground. Nahrem snapped at Matasa’s face, dangerously close.

  “Can I get some help?” Matasa shouted to bystanders. No one moved. Why aren’t they helping? Several people pointed in the distance at something, or someone, Matasa couldn’t see. The onlookers broke into grateful smiles.

  Matasa rotated his torso to see what would stop them from assisting him. Nahrem drove his hips skyward into Matasa’s shifted distribution of weight, throwing Matasa off. Matasa careened into the hardened ground, winded. Nahrem scuttled his feet beneath him. He repeatedly slammed his bound fists onto Matasa’s head.

  A single thought possessed Matasa as each of Nahrem’s blows thundered on his skull.

  By the Great Light, this has all been in vain.

  Nahrem had not been in complete control of himself for days. Finyaka’s Radiance lifted him into the air. Something abominable kept him up here. Nahrem had thought that his increasing hatred of his brother was as a result of their father’s death, that if he punished Finyaka as his father had wanted, that dah’s soul would be at peace and that he would be proud of Nahrem. Nahrem now realized what he’d been experiencing was more than unnatural hatred.

  Darkness took over Nahrem like an insidious sickness. He’d become a terrified observer in this fratricidal obsession. What did I do to deserve this? He didn’t particularly like his brother, and keeping their dah happy, even at Finyaka’s expense, had once been so important to him. But with their father dead, and most likely their other brothers, did Nahrem have to kill himself to satisfy the wishes of a dead man?

  He heard himself spit forth curses at Finyaka. The Darkness within used his voice and his words, but it was not him. He didn't harbor the Darkness’ all-consuming animosity in the threats he made. Nahrem felt as though his body was made of thick honey even though he seemed to be on the ground thundering toward Finyaka.

  Nahrem inwardly quivered like he had when he was a boy hiding behind the goat pen from his drunken father’s fists. How many times had dah broken his spirit? Finyaka had discovered Nahrem there but had protected his hiding place from their father. He took a beating for his charity. After that punishment, he looked much like he did now, curled into a fetal position on the floor. Was I always so rough on him?

  Nahrem’s world swam before his eyes. A blur of indiscernible arms and legs and then Matasa replaced Finyaka in Nahrem’s field of view. When had he arrived at the fight? And how did he get on top of me?

  He screamed. Or maybe it was Matasa. Blood splattered in all directions. Will I ever have control of myself again?

  These incessant brawls with his brother had everything to do with Father. No, not with their dah—with the night he died. That was when Nahrem started falling into the inky nothingness that puppeteered him.

  What curse had his father uttered?

  “By the Darkness, I swear I’d give anything to see Finyaka brought low.” The memory of Tsimunuu’s prayer to the Darkness rang through Nahrem’s ears. In all the teachings, the Darkness Behind the Light sought out broken souls, using them against the Radiance of the Great Sun in an eternal battle for dominance.

  Why do I balance my fate with my horrible father?

  Nahrem’s single heartbeat connected with him. It lasted an eternity.

  Balance. Of course. Finyaka said he had been gifted Radiance by the Great Light. If Finyaka is the chosen of Anuu, then am I a weapon of the Unnamed Darkness? Father cursed me when he cursed our brother.

  Nahrem’s revelation struck like lighting, a searing knife of pain between his ribs. No, not a knife.

  “It’s a spear,” he said aloud in a mere whisper. His frightened boy-self plummeted back into his wounded body.

  He heard the guards as if coming from a distance. "Nice throw, Nakhet,” one said. “Dead on,” complimented another.

  The consuming malevolence that had possessed Nahrem vanished. He was no longer a powerless agent of the Darkness Behind the Light. Every measure of injury inflicted upon Nahrem’s body exploded within him to the point where the weapon jutting out of his chest was the least of his worries.

  He smiled, bracing the spear that had impaled him. Father’s curse comes to an end. Nahrem’s sight began fading. He had done so many things wrong and squandered so many chances in his life. And Finyaka…what have I done to my brother?

  As if summoned by the thought, Finyaka was there, pulling himself to Nahrem’s fallen body on his hands and knees. Finyaka’s eyes were golden and shone with a bri
lliance reminiscent of the Great Sun. He gingerly explored Nahrem’s wounds. A healing warmth flowed into Nahrem. Even so, Nahrem knew it was too late. He opened his mouth to speak. Blood gushed freely.

  “Hush brother,” Finyaka said, his voice not that much stronger than Nahrem’s. “I’ll save you.”

  “Forgive me,” Nahrem managed. “Our dah, he cursed me, cursed us both.” He hurt so much. Fatigue ate away at him.

  “I forgave you before. I forgive you again.” The Radiance bursting from Finyaka’s eyes flared. Nahrem squinted against its brilliance. “No, brother, stay awake. We can do this.”

  “Father’s dead.” Nahrem reached up for Finyaka’s cheek. “Your hound and her pack avenged you. You do not need to kill yourself to save me. I do not deserve it.”

  “Anuu willing, yes you do.”

  A gentle song drifted across the commotion of the caravan. The notes sounded familiar, like the ones Sinaya often hummed. It was a beautiful song. Nahrem closed his eyes in its warm embrace. From the world beyond his closed eyes, Nahrem saw the wise woman, Sinaya. She bore the same stern face he remembered.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have.” Nahrem reached out for her with hands that were no longer bound or bleeding. His woes were no more.

  “The Great Sun gives, and the great Sun takes.” She smiled and received his penitence. The Song consumed him.

  The pitch-black tendrils of the Darkness Behind the Light sought a hold on everything as Finyaka drove them from Nahrem’s body. A wave of empathy washed over him. He knew his brother was dying, despite trying to heal him with his Radiance. Finyaka had healed his brother’s soul, but not its vessel. He wanted to cry. Tears wouldn't come. Finyaka had not killed Nahrem, but he felt responsible for his death. If he had healed his brother in the Jut, would it ever have come to this?

  Sinaya’s ghostly Song told him that Nahrem’s ordeal was over. His brother’s fading nimbus assured him that Nahrem no longer suffered. Finyaka caressed his older brother’s face. For the first time, the creases of Nahrem’s furrowed brow eased into soft lines. The Great Sun forgives you, brother. Rest well.